Gloves

Monday morning came too soon for the basement boys, as Bob was completely out of the green weed and no one else actually wanted to go in the first place. The would be completely complacent with staying in the dank little room, surrounded by cigarettes and bongos. What really got them out of the house was Bob's attempt at getting high through glue. He was sniffing a bottle of Elmer's in the bathroom when Mikey found him. This caused some stern reprimands and many bouts of boisterous laughter.
And now Frank was standing in front of his locker for his fourth period books, spinning the dial and mumbling the digits under his breath. His now obsolete textbooks were tucked under his arm, weighing down his right side as he fumbled with his left. He hummed an aimless tune as the door swung open, shoving his books in and taking the ones he needed. He slammed the door shut, only to find an unfamiliar face sneering at him from the other side.
"Looky looky," crooned the face, making a fearful shudder run up the smaller boy's spine. He just did not look friendly.
When Frank refused to react, the face grew suddenly closer and darker, a grim atmosphere settling around the two boys. "Answer me when I'm talking to you!"
"Well, considering you weren't directly addressing him, I'd say it doesn't warrant a response," came the all too familiar cocky voice of one is-and-is-not necromancer.
Mr.AngryStrangerManPerson turned around, a deadly glare meeting the death-to-all-who-glance-my-way stare that Gerard had perfected over the years. "Who the hell are you?" the boy -- who is yet to be named -- demanded.
A cold, humorless smile slithered onto Gerard's face. "I have many names," he mused vaguely, circling the fuming boy. "Gay Way, Freak, Emo, Loser." He let out a harsh laugh. "But my favorite, oh-o-oh, my favorite is Death. Why don't you call me that?"
"I don't care what they call you, just--"
"Oh, what should I do? Should I--" he slid behind him and made a slicing motion "--cut the jugular? Or maybe--" he slipped his legs in front of the boy "--break every last bone until you're crying, blatantly pleading, for death? How about I--" he yanked off his right glove "--simply touch you? Just barely brush up against your skin, and -- BAM -- you're dead." His slender, stark-white fingers trailed along the boys shoulder, just barely touching the cloth of his jacket. He jerked back, slamming into the lockers and leaving Gerard smiling that deranged grin.
"Get the fuck away from me!" he squawked, backpedaling down the hallway with frantic motions and panicked eyes. A loud, horrendously pleased bark of a laugh left Gerard's lips.
In the short time that this happened in, Frank realized just how dangerous Gerard was. He could put an end to any of them with one, swift touch. It was not just a terrifying conclusion, but a depressing one as well. He would never have a proper relationship with anyone. He would never get to just run his fingers through his lover's hair without murdering them. It was a sad existence.
"You okay, childe?" Frank jerked out of his saddening reverie to the sound of Gerard's voice right in front of him. His eyes widened at the sight of the slightly disheveled boy, red eyes blown wide with adrenaline and hair splayed across his face.
The brunette reached up and pushed some of the black locks from his face. "I think the question here is, are you okay?"
The concern Frank was showing melted any remaining anger in Gerard's body. "I'm perfectly fine, my childe. As long as you are safe." He brushed his newly-gloved hand across his friend's face in a tender, almost loving way.
This incredible possessive side Gerard was displaying sent a fuzzy feeling flying through his stomach. He launched himself at Gerard, snatching him into a hug and squeezing. The startled red-eyed boy patted his back awkwardly for a moment before squeezing him back. They realized that the bell had long since rang.
"Where did you come from, Gerard?"
"I'm not having that talk with you."
"No, I mean, how did you show up at just the right time?"
"I had to piss."

Notes

My head is killing me. Sorry if this sucks, because I'm had this crazy fucker since I got up this morning.
Comment and subscribe and shit.
-Stitches and her monster headache